


Colder Than Yourself

by FrostedFox



Series: The Specialists [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Except sometimes, F/M, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Protective Kylo Ren, Sick Rey, warnings might change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-15 04:50:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9219635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostedFox/pseuds/FrostedFox
Summary: She falls at his feet, wounded and begging. What choice does he have but to keep her?





	1. Catch Up On Your Sleep

“You,” he says through gritted teeth. They stand in a meadow, six feet apart and both quaking. He watches her and wonders how she knew he would land here, how she knew to wait for him. The pair lock eyes for a moment before she collapses on the ground at his feet. “What is this?”

She looks up at him, hands around her belly and pleading. He notices the blood that stains the beige fabric around her abdomen. “Help,” she says. (She never thought she would ask him this, but she’d rather escape from his prison than die in this field.)

  
Her eyes flutter and Kylo realizes he’s out of time. Act now or lose the choice. He picks her up the way he did when he put her to sleep, then dips into her mind. Oceans and greenery and Han and Luke. It looks like his own childhood dreams, except the subjects have aged significantly.

  
When they get to the ship, there is chaos. Stormtroopers in squads and rows, ships coming and going, all because Hux found a new source of fuel that could allow New Starkiller to activate without the sun. Here, on this deserted jungle planet, where the force-wielding scavenger just happened to be waiting. Kylo weaves his way through in order to get the girl, Rey, some privacy. Privacy and a medical officer. This may reek of set-up, but if she dies, he will never know.

*

Rey is naked and under a thin white sheet. When she awakes, she thinks she is captured, then thinks she has been mistaken for a cadaver. There is no one in the room, but the walls are mirrored and Rey saw enough of the Resistance’s interrogation tactics to know what that means. They’re watching. She tries not to move, but notices that her hands are restrained. This, paired with her nakedness, jolts anxiety through her blood like acid. She snaps her head to the left and grinds her eyes closed.

  
The door opens behind her, but Rey does not look. She can feel him, knows that it’s him, and some of the plan comes back to her in a rush of memories that she fights to keep down lest he read her mind. Instead she focuses on her island, the calm break of waves, anything to forget her vulnerability. His voice — harsh through the mask— breaks her reverie.

  
“You found me,” he says.

  
“The First Order has not been hard to miss.”

  
“We have the best security in the galaxy,” he accuses as he moves closer to her body. She still refuses to look at him.

“I didn’t say you were easy to infiltrate. Just to follow.”

  
“Why did you follow me?”

  
She stays silent. Instead looking around at the crisp, clean lines of the metal-and-glass walls, the way fluorescent light glints off each corner where the windows meet wall. An interrogation room with one cot, one sheet, one Rey, and one monster in a mask. As though he heard her thoughts — and maybe he did — he removes his mask.

  
“Who stabbed you, then?”

  
This confuses Rey. Stabbed? She didn’t remember being stabbed.

  
He continues, “You fell in front of me, almost bled out. I brought you here to,” he pauses.

  
“Save me,” she finishes. “You saved me.”

  
“Who stabbed you, scavenger?” His face hovers above hers and she can feel his breath on her cheek.  
“I don’t remember.” She says, and he deflates.

  
“A trick was played on you, then,” he says. “It was one of your people. _Resistance_.” He spits the word like it is fowl. “They risked your life to get you inside. And now you are here.” He gestures wide with his arms and paces around the small room. “So what is it you want?”

  
Rey feels something turn and roil in her stomach and she shoves as far onto her side as the restraints allow before vomiting on the floor.

 

*

Ren had seen sepsis before. When he was fourteen he had suffered a training wound that he told nobody about, then spent the whole next day throwing up everything he ate. When he went to Luke, he was consoled and given an oxygen mask and bacta and plenty of fluids. It was a fever that was made worse by the knowledge that the cause was poison bacteria flooding his veins. That, and his own silence.

  
The contents of the scavenger’s stomach is mostly the water they had fed her as she recovered from the injury and minor surgery, so Kylo moves around her and releases her arm restraints. She wipes at her mouth immediately and then props herself up, clutching the sheet to her chest and wavering until he puts his hand on her shoulder to steady her. Realizing what he has done, the comforting position he has assumed, he pulls his arm back and repeats, “What do you want?”

  
“Help,” she says. “I wanted help. Like you said, they did this to me. Called me a traitor. I didn’t know where else to go. I had no one else, and your ships are such a beacon … it was easy …” her voice trails and a cold sweat forms at her temple.

  
“You need sleep,” he says. “And when you wake, I will find what you are doing here. I will figure out what to do with you.” He waves his hand in front of her face and all she can see is black.


	2. Circle Around Me Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning here: The chapter following this one has non-con elements. I didn't put that warning up from the beginning so I want to make it as clear as possible now that I know, for anyone who subscribed.

He carries her from the interrogation room to her own room, which is attached to his by a narrow hallway but separated from the rest of the ship by three high-level security coded doors. She can’t get out, and no one else can get in.

The Finalizer is still on the jungle planet, Felucia, and from the way Hux galavants around the corridors, Kylo assumes that the energy source has been found. Kylo had felt it difficult to champion a new Starkiller Base after the last disaster, but then, perhaps he was letting his personal memories taint the only way forward. Snoke is pleased with Hux’s progress, anyhow. 

Kylo stands and looks out his window at the fauna, wishing he could see stars instead, when he hears Rey’s cry. It is broken and pierces through the walls, and at once Kylo is in her room, watching as her small figure wraps her arms around her knees and shivers. 

“Why are you doing this to me,” she asks. 

“You’re sick, that’s all. Sepsis. You will heal, with time.”

“I’m so cold. Where are my clothes?” Right. He had forgotten to bring her something to change into. She clutches the sheet closer to herself and closes her eyes. 

She shudders and he remembers why she's here. “I need to check your wound,” he says, glad he has his mask to hide the hesitancy in his voice. He is better than lust, and she is better than humiliation. These emotions are beneath the force, beneath them. Still, she shakes her head. 

“It’s fine. Just bring me my clothes.”

“It’s infected. Very infected. You need someone to change the bandages, to apply bacta.”

“You could have done that while I slept.”

“And risk you waking up and tearing your stitches trying to fight me?”

Rey pulls her knees closer to her chest and winces. (He is right, after all, she can’t see her injury on her own, and she has no bacta to heal with.) “Fine,” she says. “But I’m not moving.”

“Alright.” He moves to her left side and lifts the sheet. He is above lust, above desire, even as the curve of her hip becomes smooth flesh. He wants to run his hand along it, wants to feel the warmth of her back under his spread fingers. But his attention returns to the wound. A scar about three inches long and deep enough for internal and external bonding. A stab wound, but not from a saber. None of the flesh was burnt. In placement and size, it almost matches the scar on his side from the bridge on Starkiller.

He wipes the area with a bacta patch first and she mewls in pain, then shudders as he places another patch over the wound. “Well, it’s not worse,” he declares. She nods and he places the sheet over her body again. “I’ll get you some clothes,” he says hastily as he departs.

 

 *

 

She can hold down water and soup, but anything solid is out of the question. He brings dishes into her room and comes back later to clean up. Sometimes she is cold, requesting blankets, which he brings her from his own room, or she is hot and needs ice in her water. One night, when she is sweating more water than she could possibly drink, he places his cold hand against her forehead and she sighs. He tells himself he is taking her temperature, but his hand lingers too long for that to make any sense. 

Gradually, she recovers. She walks around her room, pacing, and it worries him. One night he lets her walk through his rooms for the exercise and recovery, and she wanders through, touching as many of his possessions as she can. This, too, worries him. 

When he tends to her wound, he does so with gentle fingers, ignoring the gooseflesh that spreads against her skin like a blush. A week passes, and it is time to remove the stitches. He tells her this as he takes away her dishes from the day. 

“Do I need a tool or something?”

“I intended to help you. To remove them myself.”

“Oh,” she says, and there is something stormy behind her eyes. “When?”

“Tonight?” He offers, then feels a pang of disgust for asking and not demanding she recover at the pace he set. After she is declared healthy, she will be taken to Hux or Phasma for interrogation. She will be out of his hands. 

“Will it hurt,” she asks, and it is so quiet he almost misses it. She clears her throat and corrects herself. “I won’t let you hurt me.”

He shrugs. “It might, a little. But no more than if you did it yourself. I can promise you that.”

She nods. “Sure, alright.”

 

*

 

With hands as gentle as ever, he clips the stitches and removes the thread. She winces but is silent through it, and when he is done, he slides his hand over the bumpy scar. She is staring at him and she knows from the way he tenses that he can feel it, but he doesn’t look at her.

Quietly, she asks, “Does this mean I'm healed?"

“Well,” he offers. “Healed enough.”

“And you’re going to send me to someone else now, right?” She grows angry, voice rising in volume.

“Yes.”

“But I don’t have the answers you want. You know that.”

“I only know you have barriers in your mind. Something worth hiding.”

“Oh,” she says. They sit in silence together for a moment before Kylo stands to leave. Rey stands with him, then reaches up for his face. “Thank-you,” she says. Then she raises herself on her toes and kisses him, quickly. He pulls back and leaves, slamming the door behind him, leaving only silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> realcooltraitors.tumblr.com


	3. Shouldn't Be Alone In There

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Non-con/dub-con warning for this chapter! This whole thing is toeing the line between real dark and real tender, and the duality is only going to get more intense from here.

She met him in that field for a reason. His mind swirls around the thought. There is no way that she just happened to be there, bleeding out, asking for help. In her condition, she couldn’t have tracked him, couldn’t have followed. She was stabbed on that planet, left on that planet, left for him to find. So she had a plan, and damn him if he would be fooled by her soft touch, vicious lips. 

When he returns to his room, he returns with a vengeance. She is on her cot, stretching and swivelling her body in some sort of form-training-throwback. He pushes the door open so hard she jumps, and when she looks at him her eyes betray fear. Kylo meets her in two strides, grabs hold of her face and kisses her, rough and wet. She tries to push him off but he doesn't move away, just lets his hands roam over her skin and dip past the waistband of her pants. She tries to kick out with her leg but he catches it and wraps long fingers around her calf. “No,” she says, and something clicks inside him. Kylo releases her, turns away, and leaves without another word. 

 

*

 

She dreams of his tenderness, has nightmares of his cruelty, and then wakes up to a world in which he is one or the other. She is his guest, so he warns her before she will be subjected to Hux’s torture. He is a murderer and a monster, so he speaks to her from afar, and always with a mask. He hasn’t touched her since his attack, and she hasn’t forgiven him, but she still hopes for kindness with each day she wakes up.

Hux, on the other hand, is all cruel. He taunts her and throws water in her face and shocks her. He burns her hands, her wrists, the back of her neck. She is branded, but each night Kylo delivers her three bacta patches and she is expected to make it all go away. They all ask the same questions, “Why are you here? What do you want?” And too often her answer is, “For it to stop.”

 

* 

 

She wakes up, or at least thinks she’s awake, hot and covered in sweat and shivering and cold and fuck, she doesn’t know what she is. But the edges of her vision are swirling and she’s afraid, so afraid. Something is coming for her. Them. (And maybe he’s right, maybe they are out for her, trying to kill her.) She gets up and leaves the room, wanders into Kylo’s space, which she has always had access to but has been forbidden to go into without permission. The logistics of this seem fuzzy in her feverish state. 

He is asleep on his bed. As unclothed as she’s ever seen him, hair stuck to his face and spread across the pillow. She moves close and pushes against his arm, shakes him and breathes across his face, “Kylo?”

He rolls over and her non-functional mind decides it’s an invitation, so she crawls in beside him. The warmth of his body cures her chills, but she keeps above the blanket to keep cool. She feels him roll over and start, then catches the shine of his now-open eyes. He makes a sound of confusion and she reaches for his hand, then pulls it to her forehead.

“What are you doing,” he slurs. In response she sits up and places her forehead against his. “A fever,” he says.

“There’s something there,” she whispers. “Something trying to get me.” She doesn’t move away, so he takes her face in his hands and pulls her back, looks into what he can see of her eyes. She kisses him. Fast. He kisses back this time, long, deep. She feels her brain fog over, with the fever or something else, she isn’t sure. His hand slips around her waist, pulling her onto him, pulling the medical gown she sleeps in up and sliding it over her head. She feels the chill and the warmth through the blankets and suddenly this feels unfair. She pulls back to throw the blanket aside. And he shudders and flips her so that he is above, supporting himself by strong arms and hovering. 

His eyes are closed and his breathing is ragged and he is getting lower, lower, lower until his lips meet her neck, kiss up to her ear and it’s cold, oh, so cold. She doesn’t notice his hand as it moves down to where her thighs are squeezed together, but she becomes aware when he presses his fingers there, gaining access though she doesn’t make it easy. He opens his eyes, almost asking, but not quite forming the words. She turns her face away and opens her legs so his fingers can trail there while hers sketch the bones of his spine and nip at his neck. 

She forgot to think this through, this thing that is happening, forgot to make the choice, but the choice has been made anyways and oh, he presses into her with two long, long fingers. She groans and pivots and doesn’t know how else to move. His free hand pulls at her side and she feels the ache of the healing wound there. She can almost feel the knife, can almost see the glimmer of it in the hands of— 

They both freeze, aware of what she’s done, aware of what they both now know. He pulls away from her, now fully awake, and rises up. His eyes are fire and rage and it’s all directed at her. She realizes she’s naked and hot, too hot. Bile rises up in her throat as she wills herself not to be sick. She sits, trying to get out, searching for safety, but her limbs won’t support her and she collapses onto the ground. Darkness encroaching on her vision once again, darkness and Poe Dameron, knife in his hands, tears streaking his cheeks, a whispered apology.

“Rey? Rey?!” But that’s not Poe. That’s a different voice, a scared voice, and then she loses herself to the black.


	4. Trust Will Get You Down

Trapped, trapped, trapped.

She pounces from the bed, ready for attack, fingers grasping at the air for something, anything to strike her attacker with. But there is no attacker, only space and her bed. She is alone, but her skin itches as though there were something here.

Slowly, pieces come back. Kylo, carrying her back to her room, placing her on the bed as she pretends she’s asleep. He had stroked her face carefully and she felt the concern. Her fever must have broken some time in the night. Her sheets are damp and she can remember fragments of dreams: voices calling her, crawling into Kylo Ren’s bed, the fear, so much fear. His eyes and a knife. 

No.

She had remembered. She remembered Poe stabbing her, apologizing and repeating that he had been ordered, that this was their best bet. She remembered nodding, hugging Leia and promising that if she returned, she would bring the General's son, then promising Finn that she would kill him. It was a betrayal, but this way she would have an ally no matter what happened. She promised Poe she would survive, and this seemed to her the promise she had the greatest chance of breaking. She remembers it now. But worse, she had remembered all this in the presence of a mind reading enemy, and now he _knows_. 

She pulls at her hair and feels strands break and gather in her fingers. He will kill her, or torture her, or torture her and then kill her. She had been an implant, and he had gathered as much when he took her in, but now he knows everything. He has his answers. She has no chance of getting close now. 

But he cared for her even after he knew, a small voice whispers. She carefully moves to the door and silently-as-possible opens it. She can’t sense him. There are objects in his room she could use as a weapon. A lamp, perhaps a book, she could throw the bookshelf over him, attempt to crush or at least stun him. She goes to the shelf. 

The door creaks open and he enters, a mass of black fabric and metal. He wears his mask, so she isn’t sure exactly when he notices her. 

“You're awake,” he says, and the emotionlessness of the mask shakes her. They stand in silence and stare at each other for some time before he speaks again. “Would you like me to kill him?”

“Kill who?” Her voice rattles so she digs her nails into her arm, trying to steady herself through the pain.

“The pilot who stabbed you. I assume you want him dead.”

Did he not understand? He had to, he heard her thoughts, his eyes had betrayed him.

“I…”

He raises his hands to press the release on his helmet. His eyes, his real eyes, find hers and they stare for another moment. “I’ve ordered he be captured. At the very least, he’s a valuable prisoner to have, seeing how…” He pauses. “ _Useful_ he is to the Resistance. At most, he’s a prisoner of war who attacked first by sending you here.”

“So that means…”

“I won’t let them kill you,” he sighs. “Not after all the work it took to keep you alive.”

She nods, searched her mind for something to say, some answer to give. “I don’t want him dead,” she says softly.

“No,” he says. “Of course you don’t.”

 

*

 

She sits on the small bed in her room, back against the wall, when he enters. 

“How do you feel?”

“Better, I think.”

“You need to know … last night. It wasn’t… It can’t happen again.” He pauses. “We found the pilot.”

“Poe?”

Kylo Ren sighs. “I suppose. There was a meeting this morning. We have an outline. A plan. You are to remain here and train under me, or go back to Jakku. The pilot will be executed.”

“No,” she says softly, then louder, “You can’t do that!”

“It’s him or you. There was a plot made against the First Order. Against my life. Someone needs to pay. An example will be made of him.”

Rey doesn't speak, fights tears that gather in her eyes. She sees red, red and white gather at the corner of her vision. She squeezes her eyes shut to block out the emotions and misses the way his shoulders fall. 

“Stay here or go back to Jakku. The choice is yours, scavenger.”

She hears the door close when he leaves the room, hears the bolt click as he locks her inside. Trapped, for the first time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ode to mediocre filler. I'll get the next chapter up soon to make it up to you.


	5. Speak When You're Spoken Of

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When there's nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire.

“HEY! HEY!” She screams at the door. She can hear that he’s out there. She can hear him scuffling about. “KYLO REN!” Encroaching steps. Finally, she hears the door unlock and he enters, masked and tall.

“What is it?”

“Kill me,” she says, and then she breathes heavily, the weight of her choice like a marathon. Like the trek up a sandhill, toboggan in hand.

“What?”

“Kill me. Kill me instead of Poe.”

“That wasn’t part of—“

“Yes. You said someone needed to pay. That it was him or me. I want to be executed in his place.”

Kylo Ren turns to leave, ignoring this plea. 

“Why not?” Rey yells. “Why not?”

“I don’t want you dead,” he says to the door, then he’s gone. 

 

*

 

Rey screams her voice raw, pounds on the door, calls his name, scratches the floors. He doesn’t return, not even to bring food, and Rey feels the familiar hollowness of hunger form in her gut. It feels like home. It feels like death. 

She falls asleep, and wakes up some time later. There are no windows in her room, she has no idea how much time has passed, but she can hear him moving. She screams again but it comes out of her shredded vocal chords as a whimper. She falls asleep again. He never brings food. 

 

*

 

Two days without contact pass before Kylo enters her small room. There is blood on the walls, on the floors. Rey sleeps, cradling one bloody hand in the other.

“Rey,” he says. “Wake.”

She jumps and her eyes fly open. Flashes of the terrors from her dream assault him. Sand, hunger, and so much pain. 

“The execution is in a week,” he says. He expects her to scream more, to cry, to jump at him, but she just nods, her eyes red-rimmed and afraid. 

“When did you capture him?”

“Yesterday.”

“Can I see him?”

“Rey…” he starts, and he feels glad for the mask which veil the sympathy he feels his traitor throat release.

“Something else, then,” she says. “I want to confess. To everything. In front of everyone.”

“No.”

“Why not?” The anger returns to her voice and it is a glad sound to his ears. 

“You talk to me now. Only me.”

“I won’t tell you anything and you know it.”

“Yet you would tell everyone.” It’s almost a question.

“I know how I got the mental blocks,” she taunts. “I know you want to know what I have.”

Kylo sighs. She’s right, there is something else there. Something big enough to warrant steady blocks, blocks placed by someone else. “Let me see your hands,” he says.

“Why?”

“Let me see your hands and I’ll take you to Hux.”

“And Phasma. And your boss.”

“We’ll see.”

“Kylo.”

“Fine.”

She holds out her hands. He takes them in his and cringes. He can’t make out the specifics of the injury through the mask. The low lighting of the room and the proximity puts everything out of focus. He reaches up and removes the mask. He hears her take in a breath. 

He goes for his pocket and removes a tube of bacta gel, then begins to apply it to her knuckles and nail beds, where the worst of the damage is. She hisses in pain and he pulls back for a moment, then goes back to it. 

“Why are you helping me?” She asks, voice small. 

“It was too much work to keep you alive, to keep you well. I already told you. I won’t throw that time away.”

He doesn't ask himself why he didn’t just leave the bacta.

 

*

 

He pushes her ahead of him, though passageways and past secure doors, up ramps and across bridges. Even if she planned on escaping, she wouldn’t be able to memorize the route. Everything is metal and black and red lights. Landmarks are scarce. 

Finally, finally, he pushes her into a room, brightly lit, and she sees Phasma and Hux standing at attention. Kylo releases her and moves to stand with Hux and Phasma. An audience. 

“Go on,” he says. 

“It was my plan,” she says. Silence. “I wanted to get inside, get information for the Resistance. I told him to stab me. I wanted to kill Kylo Ren.” She makes eye contact with Hux, the only figure in the room without a helmet. Release Poe. Release him and execute me.”

“That is out of the question,” Kylo says.

“Hold on,” says Hux. “Why not? If she says she is responsible…”

“She’s not.”

“She’s confessing.”

“And if you don’t execute me, I’ll make it known to everyone that I broke in, that I threatened you, and that you let me live.” Rey adds.

“We’ll seem weak,” says Phasma.

“I say we execute them both,” says Hux, offhand. Rey squeezes her eyes shut. At least she might get to see Poe, to explain.

Kylo looks between Phasma and Hux, aware that he won’t be able to win this one, not with both of them against him, not with Rey causing a fuss. He glares at her. 

“Fine,” he says. All of the breath leaves Rey’s body at once. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you authors who have left kudos are authors whose fic gives beautiful fire to my soul. I'm starstruck. The next chapter is my favourite (so far), this ~plottiness~ won't last forever.


	6. If I Get There Early Will It Be the Right Time

She is imprisoned, held, this time in a real cell. Hux had escorted her down, Kylo having left the room immediately after the decision was made. The general tells her that she has a week until she is executed, a week to make peace with whatever the scavengers of Jakku pray to. 

“The resistance,” Rey hisses. “I prayed to the resistance.”

She is left alone. She calls out for Poe, but there is no response. She can’t see outside of her cell and she wonders if there is anyone that can hear her, or if she is completely on her own. She waits for Kylo Ren.

 

*

 

A day passes. Phasma brings food. Rey waits for Kylo Ren.

 

*

 

Two more days go by. At least Rey thinks it’s been two days. It is possible the food isn’t coming on a regular schedule. It is possible more time has passed. The sludge they give her begins to taste like death, and she can feel it on her shoulders. Death. She wants to speak to Poe. Rey waits for Kylo Ren.

 

*

 

Hux visits and informs her that the execution will be in twenty-four hours.

“I want to see Poe.”

“You will see him at the execution, scum.”

“It’s my last request. Don’t you honour those? What harm could it do?”

Hux scowls. “We don’t listen to the requests of our enemies.”

Hux leaves. Rey waits for Kylo Ren.

 

*

 

Rey wakes up to the door of her cell opening. Metal on metal. Poe is pushed inside. 

“Rey!”

“Poe. You’re alive. You’re here. You’re still here.”

“They want to execute me.”

“Me too. Together, I mean. They want to execute us both, together.”

“Is that why he brought me here?”

“Hux brought you?”

“No. Kylo Ren.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. But we need to get out of this. You need to get out of this.”

“I’ve tried. I’m trying. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how.”

“Oh, Poe,” Rey sighs. She hugs him, falls into him, and they both fall to their knees, dry-eyed and exhausted. They have hours, only hours. Rey falls asleep on Poe’s chest. She waits for Kylo Ren.

 

*

 

He arrives three hours before she is to die. He enters the cell and grabs her by the arm, pulling her off of Poe, waking her up and startling her. 

“You are to be prepared,” he states. She is too tired, too stunned to fight it. She allows him to drag her away from Poe. 

She is pushed into a room with a metal bench, but they both remain standing. Kylo, staring down at Rey. Rey, looking up, then around, then back up.

“You’re filthy,” he says. 

“Haven’t changed in a week,” Rey says. 

“Your lucky day,” he says, then exhales hard when he realizes the twisted irony of the statement. He hands her a handful of fabric. Her clothes from Jakku. “A public execution,” he says. “The people have expectations.”

“You want me to wear a costume for my own death?”

“I didn’t want any of this, you’ll remember.”

Rey thinks of Poe, calm in sleep, soft in her arms, under her head. His heart, so vibrant, so alive. “So in a way, I win,” she says. 

“Change,” says Kylo.

“Look away.”

“Surely you are beyond modesty. Here. On the brink of your death.”

“Look away,” she repeats. He turns his back. She takes her top off and begins to wrap her breasts, then pulls off her pants and slips on the gritty leggings that bind at the ankles to keep the sand out. She hears the hiss of his mask as he removes it and she freezes. He turns around, strips her of her privacy, breaking his unspoken promise.

“I didn’t want you to die,” he says softly. She had forgotten the softness of his voice, unmasked. He strides towards her and she steps back Panicked and half-dressed. He places one gloved hand on the planes of her naked stomach and takes another step away, but he follows, as quickly as if they were waltzing. “I didn’t want this,” he repeats. 

“I wanted you dead,” she says, as though her words are solace.

“Everyone wants me dead,” he whispers into her hair, his hands sliding up her arms, up to her neck, his fingers spreading out across her jaw. “You are potential energy. Soon wasted.”

“Release us, then,” she whispers back, craning to meet his eyes. He avoids her gaze by kissing her. Lips touching hers, neither moving, neither pushing. He pulls back. “How?” His voice is broken. She reaches up and kisses him, this time forceful. He is still until he isn’t, and then he’s pushing against her, his hands on her shoulders, pushing her to meet the wall. It’s cold on her back but she lets him grind into her. His fingers trying to unwind her binding wrap, her fingers tangled in his hair. 

He unwraps her slowly, delicately, and with his eyes glued to hers. She fights the urge to cover herself. He does it for her, his hands on her breasts, then down across her stomach again, and finally at the waistband of her leggings. 

“How much time do we have?”

He looks at her, his eyes full of sorrow. “Two hours, maybe.”

“You thought it would take me two hours to change?”

“I needed you. Needed to see you.” His eyes are frantic. She pushes him back, away from her. 

“You had a week. I waited for you. I thought…” She stops talking for fear of crying.

“You thought?”

“I thought you would save me.”

“You chose this fate,” he says, angry. Rey turns her face away. She feels her stomach tighten, feels something rise up. She dry heaves, not looking at him, but then she feels his hands once more on her shoulders.

“You’re still sick,” he says. 

“I don’t want to die,” she replies. Her voice is small, tinny to her own ears. She slumps against the wall and slides down until she’s on the ground. 

“Rey,” he says. “Rey.”

She looks back at him, into the darkness of his eyes. 

Someone knocks on the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.


	7. Somehow We'll Beat This Mess

Kylo goes to the door and leans his head against it. He emits a low, point-making sigh.

“What is it, Hux?”

“I wanted to know how it was going?”

“She… resisted. I lost my temper. She’s unconscious. Should be up in a few minutes.”

“Ah, Ren. Why am I not surprised? Bring her out when she’s up.”

“Isn’t the execution hours from now?”

“Yes, but I would like the prisoners ready and waiting for the escort to the chamber.”

“Good,” says Kylo. “I’ll bring her out shortly.” He remains at the door until he is sure that Hux is gone, then turns back to Rey, who is shaking in the corner of the room.

“I will help you,” Kylo says. “I will help you escape.”

“Why?”

He moves to her, crouches down in front of her. He near-bounces on his heels as he considers his words. “You have too much power to waste. Hux and Phasma can’t understand, but I know.”

“And Poe?”

“Why must you fight me on this?”

“I won’t go without him,” says Rey. She stands and he follows her lead. “Power or no.”

Kylo resigns himself, his face tight as he nods. He leans over so that he’s caging Rey against the wall and she reaches up to kiss him. Relief slides off her in waves that crash into desperation. This time, they waste no time. Rey kicks off her pants and Kylo unfastens his robe, then parts with his own pants. Rey slides down the wall and onto the ground, dragging her captor with her. Kylo teases her with his hand, first. He is hurried and it adds to her adrenaline, and when he reaches down to position himself, she whimpers. 

“What is it?”

“I’ve never— I mean. I haven’t…”

“Oh,” he says, and draws back. 

“No. Don’t. Just… Please, Kylo. Now.”

“Are you sure?”

She bites her lip and nods. He doesn’t pause to understand why she wants this, what she’s playing at. He surges forward and in the same instant catches her lower lip between his. She almost howls with surprise and he knows now he moved too quickly. She squirms and turns her face away so he slows his pace, most of the way inside, before he pulls back again. Her eyes are screwed shut and he didn’t want this, didn’t want her in pain beneath him, despite what he used to think. He knows for sure now that she can’t die on his watch. He surges again, this time completely inside and she begins to relax as he finds a slow pace. They move wordlessly for some moments, aware that any words could break the fragile balance that keeps them from awkwardness. But eventually he needs to pick up his pace, so he leans down to bite at her ear and she moans and breaks the silence.

“Good?” She asks. 

“Good,” he sighs. “For you?”  
“Soon,” she confesses. “Just, speed up. Just a little.”

He does as he’s told and it’s only a few more moments before she’s lurching up to meet him. His face is hot and his movements grow erratic and he listens for her breathing, her gasps. He moves one hand up to cradle her face and she leans into the touch. One tear rolls into his palm and he closes his hand around it. She moves faster, then, frantic and needy, and he adheres to her pace. He won’t last long, but she seems ready, and when she cries out and bites down against his wrist, he finishes as well. He rolls himself over and sits up, looking down at her, at this girl who is, in First Order terms, already dead. 

 

*

 

She dresses in her scavenger clothes and hands him the medical clothing she had been wearing for the past week. They don’t speak, hardly breathe, but when she is dressed she moves into his embrace. She can tell that the experience of holding someone is foreign to him: his hands not sure where to rest, his head a heavy weight pressed into her own. Finally, after they stand there for a few minutes, he pulls back and looks at her. 

“You’re going to have to trust me,” he says. 

“What are you planning?”

He smiles, and it’s a half-formed thing and out of place here, out of place now. “I can’t tell you. That’s why you have to trust me.”

Rey hesitates, her eyes searching the ground for something, some answer. “Yes. I trust you.”

“Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but that's because the next one is long.


	8. You Make Sleek Kills

He pushes her roughly out of the cell and down the hall, his fingers digging into her shoulders. She can feel the tension through him, an extrapolation of her own anxiety. She told him she trusted him, sure, but she’s also being led towards her execution. 

When her eyes fall on Poe, she nearly drops to her knees. His eyes are purple-rimmed and she looks towards the brightness of the overhead light, trying to kill the tears that collect. 

“What did they do to you?” She stumbles forward and out of Kylo’s grip. 

“Nothing a little execution won’t fix,” he says. She doesn’t laugh, but takes his face in her hands. Kylo clears his throat behind her. He had instructed her not to let Poe in on the plan, and she fights everything to keep her promise now. Poe looks her over, the fearful humour in his eyes being replaced with concern. “Did he hurt you?” He whispers. 

“I’m fine,” she says. 

He nods and they stare at each other for a moment longer. 

“Hux will be here soon to lead you out of the chamber. The people are waiting,” Kylo says.

Rey turns to looks at him. “And what do we do? Wait?”

Kylo shifts. “You will follow me, and at the first corridor, the two of you will go left. I will go right.” He steps closer to Rey. “You will find yourself in a hanger. Wait for me there.”

“Without you?”

“I won’t be far behind.”

Rey turns away from him to look at Poe, who looks confused and skeptical. “It’s not like we have much other choice,” she says. Poe nods, and wisely keeps his mouth shut.

 

*

 

The hanger is huge and busy with flights coming and going. Rey grabs onto Poe’s hand, unused to all the noise, and he squeezes. 

“He wants us caught,” Poe whispers. “There’s no way…”

“No,” Rey interrupts. “He would have stayed with us. Right?”

Poe remains silent and they stay tight to the wall. It would be so easy to be caught here, and yet everyone seems immersed in their own tasks. Troopers march past in lines and military personnel walk briskly by. Rey wonders if there were many people waiting to attend the execution, if this is the hanger on a slow evening. 

Poe sucks in a breath and nods his head towards something. Rey follows and watches as Kylo Ren enters the hanger. She almost runs to him, forgetting she’s clinging to Poe’s hand. 

“No,” Poe whispers. He’s right. They have to blend in if they want to make it. They walk towards Kylo slowly, and Rey can taste acid on her tongue. When they reach him, he looks them over briefly before pushing them forward. 

“Walk ahead of me,” he says. “There’s a ship to our left. Can you fly it?”

“Yes,” Poe and Rey answer simultaneously, then look at each other quickly.

“You’re not coming,” Rey breathes with sudden understanding. Poe looks between them as he walks, then elects to keep his head down, his eyes forward. He’s walk his way out of a First Order hanger before. 

“You. Pilot,” Kylo huffs. “See the TIE-fighter to your left? Get in there and prep. No one will notice you. We have one last thing to take care of.”

Rey can see that Poe wants to argue, wants to stay with Rey, but she nods at him and he accepts the order. Kylo places his hand on Rey’s arm and careens her to the right.

 

*

 

The first time Kylo dreamt of Rey, he had no idea where she was. With Luke, he assumed, but the search had been put on hold in favour of the new Starkiller plans and his mind was forced to wander to old memories. 

Rey, bound to his interrogation table, her hair sticking to her face and her brow furrowed. 

Rey, wild in the woods, pure rage and fire. 

Rey, across the divide, turning and running, away, away, away. 

And then his mind must expand on this. She desires him, but won’t say it. She is modest in her thoughts, but her physicality says otherwise. She is short breaths and wandering hands. She is bound to him, and never to anyone else. 

In his mind, he draws a finger down her sternum as she is trapped. He slowly undresses her and licks her soft skin, his fingers finding the tender place between her legs. It’s no wonder, when he thinks back, that he was so eager to bring the bleeding and injured woman on board when she appeared to him in that meadow. It’s no wonder he needed to know that she lived. 

He pushes Rey into a small alcove in down a hallway, presses her back into the wall and lets her fear radiate into him. She is afraid for the pilot, alone in the hanger. She is afraid for her life. She is afraid for him. And a part of her, a small but loud part, is still afraid of him. And he feels it, too. That terror. The pulse of agonizing weakness that threads through him when he thinks about his fate. When he thinks about what they’ll do to him when they learn what he’s done. No. He won’t go with fantasy on his mind and one jail cell experience to call tangible. 

Kylo grabs hold of Rey’s face and kisses her deeply. She tries to pull away but he holds her there until they both struggle to breathe. She’s angry, and it simmers alongside her fear deliciously. 

“What about Poe?”

“What about him?”

“He’s waiting.”

“He’ll make do,” Kylo breathes, then leans back towards her. “I need this, Rey.”

She looks up at him. He can almost feel her understanding as it blooms, but it isn’t enough to undercut her fear. Or maybe it’s his fear. He kisses her and his hands squeeze at her sides, then slide up to push against her breasts. She exhales, hard, but it only builds the anxiety within her. 

Their emotions begin to mix and he almost loses his vision. He slips his hands into her tunic and she wriggles against him. Without thinking, he steps back and slides his trousers down, and she pulls her leggings down as well. He shields her with his body, protecting her from anyone who could walk by, then lowers himself into position. 

He thrusts and she squeals, so he claps a hand over her mouth and stares into her eyes. There is sympathy between them, sympathy and dread. And though he knows this must hurt, that there must be ache in the hastiness of this, he also knows he needs this more than he had needed anything. He needs this to make his oncoming punishment bearable. To survive.

Some piece of his fantasy comes back to him, something that tells him to grab her wrists, to take and take and take. He feels it envelope his mind, his struggling, crashing, fragmenting mind. But then she wriggles her hands from his grasp and takes his face, whispering his name again and again and again. The world blurs red, then white, then everything is pure light and he can feel her climax around him. Only then does he really let go of his mind, and everything he has lived through flows through him from the top of his head and out through his fingers.

And then he is done. 

She moves away and fixes herself up. 

“Poe,” she says. 

He fights a complete rage that she would dare to say his name, that she would taint this moment with someone else. He knows they will leave together. He knows she will be with others. He knows he will die. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to mention how completely overwhelmed I am with the feedback. I've never experienced anything like it. I'll admit to losing faith in this fic for day or so a while back, but you guys reignited me and kept me true to what I wanted this to be, and that is ... just hella fun. Though now, this run is coming to a close. There could be a sequel -- I don't have anything planned yet -- but that doesn't mean I'm done with this ever-shifting idea.


	9. I Set All My Pets Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you.

Kylo and Rey return to the TIE-fighter together, and Poe must have seen their approach through the windshield because he climbs out of the ship just as they arrive. He looks from Rey to Kylo and then launches at Kylo, who stands stock-still and takes a fist to the jaw. He stumbles back, but does not retaliate. Rey calls out, but then silences herself, desperate not to draw attention to their party.

Recognizing that Kylo Ren has no desire to strike back, Poe takes a step away. Rey looks between them. “What the hell was that?”

“Rey,” Poe says, breathless. “What did he do to you?”

“What do you mean?” Rey looks at Kylo then, who is clearly fighting a smirk. “What do you mean?” She repeats. 

“You’re red. Your neck…”

Rey pulls her hand to her neck and understands. She must look a mess, must look like he had roughed her up. Either that or….

“It’s not what you think,” Rey defends, and then realizes she has no explanation. Or none that she wants to give. “I’m fine. Get in the ship.”

“Rey,” Kylo calls, still standing at a distance. “I’m not coming with you. This is it.”

“Oh,” she says simply. 

“We have to go,” Poe chides. 

Rey takes a step towards Kylo. She wants to kiss him, wants to press her hands against his chest, his face. She doesn’t. 

“Contact me,” she says. 

He doesn’t say anything, but she thinks he nods. Almost imperceptibly, but she believes in it nonetheless. 

 

*

 

Kylo can hear the ship take off behind him as he walks back to where Hux is awaiting the prisoners. The execution was scheduled for minutes from now, and the crowd must be growing anxious for the show. There is no satisfaction in Kylo’s gut, nothing but dread and loss and pain. Rey will live, but at some point in the last few hours this has become a non-negotiable truth, not something to celebrate. 

No, this is not a time to celebrate.

Hux is pacing when Kylo returns to the place where the prisoners were being held. He swings around when he hears Kylo enter and his jaw nearly drops. 

“Where are the prisoners?”

“What do you mean?”

“Ren, the execution has to begin soon or we risk a riot.”

Kyo shrugs. He’s doomed, he’s been doomed for too long, and it’s becoming exhausting. He’s not sure why he came here, what he wanted to say, so he leaves. Hux tries to stop him, tries to grab him by the shoulders but Kylo has none of it and shoots his hand back, freezing Hux in place. He shuts his eyes, lets the man crumple to the ground, and exits.

In his rooms, he sits and waits. The night comes. Kylo waits. The morning rises, slow and pure, and he spares a thought for the waiting crowds, for Hux, who must have informed the public that the execution would not happen. Could not happen. Kylo spares a thought for the excuse Hux made. He waits and wonders what is taking Snoke so long in calling on him. He must know. They all must know. 

 

*

 

The call comes in around midday. Kylo hadn’t risen from bed, hadn’t eaten. He only let the fear play at the edges of his sanity. Phasma comes to him and tells him that he’s been summoned, so he dresses and strides down the long halls, avoiding eye contact and ignoring the whispers that follow him like spirits. When he arrives in the hall, Hux is already there, kneeling at Snoke’s feet. 

“You’ve arrived,” booms Snoke. 

“Yes Master.” Kylo considers apologizing, considers grovelling, but some voice in the back of his mind reminds him that it’s too late. He kneels beside Hux, not looking at him. Anywhere else but at his rival. 

“You freed the prisoners, despite direct orders to execute them.”

“Master, I…”

“Silence!” There is a pause. Kylo hears Hux exhale. “You will be punished for your actions. You know this.”  
“Yes.”

“Leave us,” Snoke commands Hux. Kylo can feel the hesitance flow from his colleague. The regret at having to miss what will come next. But Hux stands, bows again, and leaves.

“I know why you did what you did. I know about your transgressions. I know about the light.”

Kylo knows not to interrupt.

“You are weak. And you will be punished, but you will not lose your position as part of the First Order. The people need someone with your power to lead them, spiritually. But you will suffer for this.”

A moment passes. Kylo waits, and when Snoke doesn’t continue, he raises his eyes to look at his master. This is when the pain starts. 

 

*

 

He is tormented, near constantly, with images of terrible things. Some of them are real, are actions he has taken: the slaughter of children, the screams and the blood. Some of them are fiction: rooms full of fire that laps at his skin, sand in his blood. The memories don’t have to be real, but the pain is. 

Release comes when he needs to address the First Order or meet with Hux. Everyone is aware that their masked leader has changed. His temper fluctuates more wildly than ever before. He destroys everything, and is punished for it. 

But sometimes, rarely, he wakes up in the middle of the night to silence. No pain, no screams, no memories. He wakes up in a moment when Snoke is not paying attention, and he builds his own memories. 

Rey. 

Rey, lovely and smiling. Grateful for what he has given her. Unaware of what he has gone through. Rey, pulling her hair around her face, unwrapping her breasts with careful fingers, fingers that move towards him, under his chin, down his arms. She is careful, always, and never hurts him. In return, he holds her and feels the softness of her against his rough hands. They are silent, in his fantasy. There are no memories, no reading of minds, no words. Just softness. 

Holding still in his bed, Kylo allows tears without rage. This is not weakness, this is release, these are the only moments that keep him alive. 

He presses her against his chest and feels the muscles of her shoulders move as she wraps her arms around him. He kisses the top of her head and falls asleep, only to awake once more to agony.

 

*

 

Rey lurches up in her bed, then looks beside her to make sure Finn is sleeping. He is there, in the cold and foreign bunk next to hers. Resistance, right. She is safe, and yet, not as safe as she was in the dream. In sleep, he had been there, wrapping his arms around her, holding her close. 

Kylo Ren. The man who had healed her, time and time again. 

Just before she woke, he had tilted his head down, and pressed a kiss to her hair. 

And then she felt his pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- The End -
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JBOu55pJwFo


End file.
